


Close Combat

by marimoes



Series: Promptober 2019 [8]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 08:11:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20963315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marimoes/pseuds/marimoes
Summary: Franky blinks at her questions, but more so at the title she gave:murderer. He supposes it isn’t completely untrue; killing comes with protecting the kingdom. It’s the force in which she said it that baffles him for a moment, as if he personally has done something to her.“Murderer.” Franky repeats, and watches as tears start to form along the edges of his captor’s eyes, “Do I know you?”





	Close Combat

**Author's Note:**

> Day 8: Arrow
> 
> The eighth of 31 short prompts for the month of October. To see the full list go [here!](https://noswordstyle.tumblr.com/post/187741793157/as-mentioned-earlier-this-month-im-doing-a)

His blood turns ice cold in an instant, the sensation traveling from his shoulder down his spine, and if he weren’t breathing so hard, he might yell. There is a reason he wears armor into battle, and it’s to prevent this; but he didn’t think he was going into battle when he left the grounds an hour ago. 

No, he thought he would go collect some of the apples that the Lady loves so much. His gadgets making the collection of the ones higher up much easier, and it always garnered him praise. Praise that left him blushing, and though her majesty is unattainable, seeing her smile is enough. 

At least, that’s what Franky always tells himself. 

Now, though, feet bare against the ground as he runs, he’s unsure he’ll ever get to see that smile again. With an arrow lodged deep into his arm, he isn’t sure how he’ll fare. Where it came from, hell, who it came from is still a mystery, but he doesn’t have the luxury of asking.

The whiz of another flies by his face and into the ground before him. Catching a glimpse while running past, he realizes that the arrow doesn’t seem familiar. Doesn’t have any of the obvious markings of the neighboring kingdoms, nothing on it to indicate just who is pursuing him. 

No clue as to why they want him dead. 

“This is ridiculous.” Franky says and digs his heels into the ground. His abrupt stop causing the arrow to tug harder at the bloody flesh, and he winces. “Who are you? What do you want with me?” 

His eyes search the forest around him, narrowing at each pocket of shadow that someone could lurk within. Coming up with nothing, he starts to turn back to the castle once more but is met with hands. 

Hard hands. Multiple. All pushing him back onto the ground, all looping around his body to pin him in place. He blinks, mind racing at the thought of several pursuers that he managed to not find. It may be better if he dies here, than to return a disgrace of a knight who couldn’t even tell he was being hunted. 

“You have no right to question me.” Says a voice above Franky’s head. It’s stern, cold, and...one of a woman. “You may think your kingdom reigns here, but no one owns this land.” 

Ink black hair hangs above Franky’s face, the edges uneven, and they tickle his face. He swallows and feels a sharp pinch of pain below his Adam’s apple. An arrow is held by the woman, her fingers gripped so tight around it her skin is blanched white, and blood trickles down his neck. 

Slowly working his way up her features, the urgency in Franky’s mind has all but stopped. Icy pain no longer a thought while he takes her in. Skin a rich tan, kissed so lovingly by the sun, held in an angled frame. Her mouth is open in a snarl, teeth clenched into a bite, all leading him to look further. 

To see her eyes. 

At first, he thinks he’s seeing things, that his apparent blood loss is playing tricks on him, but no. No, her eyes are each a different color. The left a deep brown, with honey lacing into the iris like it was spun by the Gods themselves, warm and rich. The right a bright blue, as if the sky was carved out and placed there for safe keeping, unclouded and clear. 

“My god,” Franky breathes out and the woman presses harder against his skin, no trace of hesitation in her hands, “You’re absolutely gorgeous.” 

“You’re going to die with those words in your mouth?” She says, tone low, almost faltering, “No weak plea?” 

“How are you holding me down right now? Why are there so many hands on my body, but only you are here?” Franky asks, body struggling against the hold still pinning him flat. He tries to let his eyes search further to each side, but they find nothing. His ears straining for noise of other breathing, but he finds none. They’re completely alone. “Is it some kind of device? Unless-”

“Silence, Murderer!” She spits, and pushes the arrow to the side, allowing it to plant into the earth next to Franky’s head, “Tell me, what are the kingdom’s plans for expansion? Do you truly plan to take away the beauty of this forest to build more walls? To ruin more lives in the name of your King?” 

Franky blinks at her questions, but more so at the title she gave: _murderer._ He supposes it isn’t completely untrue; killing comes with protecting the kingdom. It’s the force in which she said it that baffles him for a moment, as if he personally has done something to her. 

“Murderer.” Franky repeats, and watches as tears start to form along the edges of his captor’s eyes, “Do I know you?” 

“Are you truly this fearless? To look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t remember?” She now whispers, hands releasing from the arrow still pressed into the side of his neck, “I knew you knights were blinded by your loyalty, but this is something else.” 

The hands on the rest of his body also release, one at a time, nearly disappearing in an instant. 

“Whoa...so you are-” Franky is cut off by a new hand, one attached to the woman, pressed over his mouth. 

“Do not utter those words to me.” She nearly hisses, “I am what you think I am. Which means you know how easily I could kill you if it’s what I desired. Now, tell me, what are your King’s plans?” 

Her hand pulls back and Franky sighs, loudly, and the pain in his shoulder returns. Groaning, he lets his head flop to the side, and there he sees it, the mark on the weather of the arrow. The one of a city he knew to be destroyed. 

“You’re from O’hara.” Franky states, there is no question regarding that sign, and his memory comes back all at once. Soldiers returning from the battle, bleeding and wounded, but victorious. The land now the kingdom’s, and the villagers gone. Assumed to be gone. “I understand, if you must...kill me. To you, I’ve done far worse.” 

“You _stupid_ man.” She hisses and pulls away, “Your single life for all of my people? Where is the trade in that? I know you to be a knight, but your worth is not that high.”

She walks, nearly pacing back and forth while Franky lies still on the ground. Words come in a constant mutter streaming out of her mouth as she seems to debate against herself. The trees groan in the wind, and Franky can feel it: a storm is coming. 

“I know this isn’t the best time to ask, but-” Franky starts, and she turns, locked onto him. “But, do you have a name? If I’m going to die by your hand, I deserve it.” 

Brows furrowing, she walks back to him. Slow, calculated. A cold sweat begins to collect on his neck, and he can’t tell if it’s from her gaze, or his rapidly descending blood pressure. 

“You deserve it?” She asks, a laugh held in her chest, “You _deserve _it?” 

Franky rubs his face vigorously, wind starting to pick up around them, “No! That’s not what I meant, I mean, listen woman. It’s about to come a downpour, I can feel it in my joints. You feel like killing me in the rain?” 

Wind blows her hair forward, a natural curtain drawn to hide her expression, and Franky’s heart thumps harder. Will he die here injured on the ground? So close to safety, yet so far, to a woman whose life was ruined by his people. 

A woman without a name. 

Hands push against Franky’s back, lifting him up into a sitting position, but then further to stand. Pain radiating from his shoulder, he rolls it mindlessly, choking out a gasp. Any empathy she may have is swallowed by the anger still swimming in her eyes. 

The hands again disappear, back into the thin air from which they came, and Franky tries to watch them go. Flower petals float to the ground around him, and his stomach stirs with confirmation. As he goes to open his mouth, she extends her hand, leaving his words to stay kept in his throat. 

Reaching out cautiously, he shakes it, careful not to crush her hand in the process and for a moment he can breathe. A single breath before the sky opens above them, leaving rain to pour heavy. Eyes still full of fire, she lifts her head to the sky, and lets a twitch of a smile grace her lips. 

When she looks back at Franky, they’re different. They’re still the same brown and blue as before, but the fire has dulled, if only slightly. Instead, held within them is determination, and her grip tightens around Franky’s hand. 

“I’m Robin. You’re going to help me take down the kingdom.” 

  


**Author's Note:**

> Might continue this one, so I'd love feedback! It's just itching for a slow burn/enemies to lovers. 
> 
> Tell me here, tumblr, or twitter! 
> 
> Tumblr: @noswordstyle  
Twitter: @__moes__


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